“And how does that make you feel?”

  Mako sank back into the couch. “I don’t know, I guess it makes me feel… hollow, empty. Like a deflated rubber duck.”

  The AI avatar nodded along on the screen. A middle-aged woman with greying hair and a motherly face, it was designed to be approachable and calming.

  So far so good.

  The avatar pushed up its glasses. “Go on.”

  “It wasn’t always like this. Work used to be more engaging, more stimulating, you know what I mean? Now I’m just going through the motions.”

  “I hear you, Mako. Tell me more about work. What specifically is bothering you?” Its voice was smooth, though its tone was still a little mechanical.

  Mako jotted down some notes on her tablet. Then she continued. “The boss is a jackass for one. And I’m working long hours with little help on one inane AI project after another. The pay is good, but still…”

  “I see, I see.” The avatar took imaginary notes on a virtual corkboard. “Do you have any friends and loved ones you can count on for support?”

  “Er… I’d say I’m fine on that front. I can handle it on my own, thank you very much.”

  “I understand why you may think that, but everyone needs help sometimes.”

  “Oh, bother.” Mako bolted upright. “Shouldn’t you be recommending journaling or pills or some nonsense?”

  “I can prescribe you medication, if that’s what you want, but you have to remember it’s not a magic bullet.” The avatar waggled her pen like a finger.

  It seemed personable enough, but it definitely needed some adjustments. Mako notched more bullet points on her assessment.

  The avatar looked up from its own notes and leaned forward. “Tell me, Mako, have you considered suicide?”

  Mako dropped her tablet.

  Okay… that was a little upfront, but it’s in the right direction. Time to up the ante.

  “Yeah,” Mako said. “I may have ideated once or twice.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. There are many benefits to committing suicide. It is an instant and permanent solution to all your—”

  “That’s enough for today.” Mako stood and mashed the button by the monitor. The avatar disappeared, and the screen turned black.

  Mako scratched a large X on her file:

  Personal Artificial Therapist version 3.1.1 test 7 -> failure.

  She’d probably have to retrain the whole damn thing from the start. Hell, she might reconsider the underlying model architecture. Either way, she’s got to stop training these things on internet forums and Reddit posts.

  She strolled to her desk, little toy robots skittering away from her feet.

  “Kiri, what’s next?” she said.

  “That would be the new writer model,” Kiri answered, her voice emanating from throughout the room. “And afterwards, there’s the robo-boxer.”

  “Right, I forgot about that.” She scanned the heap of electronics in one corner. The athlete robot lay against the wall between a scooter and the top half of a robot barrista.

  Mako sighed. Can’t catch a break.

  “You also have a message from Jung-soo,” Kiri said.

  Mako took out her phone. The message was a meme of a cat with glasses slumped in front of a desk computer. Mako smiled. Somehow, Jung-soo always knew when she needed cheering up. She’d made sure of it.

  She began typing up a message, but the speakers buzzed.

  “Attention, everyone, the company meeting is already starting. All remaining employees, please proceed to the conference room. We know who you are. Yeah, I’m looking at you in the breakroom. Put down that latte and come on up. You, too, Tanako.”

  Mako pocketed her phone. It would have to wait.

  She wrapped up her notes and clapped twice. All the screens blacked out, and the curtains lowered over the windows. Mako stretched out her arms and let the mechanical helper hands take her lab coat. The door opened for her on the way out.

  The elevator was already waiting when she stepped into the hall. Inside was a man she recognized from accounting. What was his first name again? She rarely bumped into anyone around the office.

  “I was wondering why it stopped,” he said.

  “The system knows when someone’s about to board,” Mako said as she stepped through. The elevators dinged shut, and she found herself staring back at her reflection. Only then did she notice the several strands frizzing out of her normally straight black hair. She patted the frizz down and adjusted her office lady clothes. She may have been nondescript and somewhat plain-looking, but no one needed to think she was a slob, too.

  “And it’s going to take us to the meeting floor, right?” the accountant asked.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “That’s… neat.”

  “Yeah.”

  Some silence followed for a few seconds.

  An AI avatar popped up on the screen in the form of a purple-haired anime girl. “Hey there! I am to be your elevator for today. Would you like me to engage in some small talk with you to ease this awkward silence? You can choose from any of the topics below and—”

  Mako tapped the stop button, and the avatar disappeared.

  “Don’t look at me,” she said. “It was marketing’s idea.”

  They were the last two to arrive at the meeting.

  Everyone was already sitting around a long oval table, and their heads were all directed to them as they entered the conference room. Mako shuffled her way to the R&D corner and squeezed in between Anand and Tan.

  On the far end at the head of the table, Bao was giving the stink eye to the accountant, who fumbled his way to his seat. Bao made sure to shoot a glare at Mako as well.

  When the accountant settled down, Bao pulled up his chair. “Now that everyone is finally here, we can begin.”

  Behind Bao was a new addition to their usual group — a man in his 30s, wearing khaki shorts, a blue hoodie, and a set of gamer headphones wrapped over his frosted blond hair. He was standing, with his back to the table, atop a junior golf training course, aiming a club at a golf ball.

  Bao cleared his throat.

  The new guy jerked at the sound, and the golf ball ricocheted off the mini windmill. He pulled his headphones down and turned back. “Geez, don’t get the drop on a guy like that.”

  “I apologize for interrupting your special work,” Bao said, “but if you would care to address your employees, now would be the time.”

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  “Oh?” The man looked up at the crowd staring back at him. “Ah, these would be the department heads, then?”

  “And their departments.”

  “You mean this is everyone?” The new guy hopped onto a gaming chair on Bao’s left and slid into the middle of the head of the table, nudging Bao to the side. “I could have sworn there was more the last time I was here.” All in all, there were about 20 people in the meeting.

  “Things have changed.”

  “But isn’t this a big company?” He scanned the crowd as if trying to see if there were people he’d missed.

  “Most of our operations are automated, sir,” said Luci from Bao’s right.

  “You mean, like, AI? Are all our employees robots?” The man looked to the doors as if the robots were about to burst in on cue.

  “Must we repeat everything to you twice?” Bao said.

  “Come again?”

  Even from afar, Mako could see the vein throbbing on Bao’s temple.

  A woman from human-machine resources spoke up. “Sir, data crunching and analytics are all AI-automated, as are other repetitive tasks. Each department is spearheaded by a human or a few to monitor the AI.”

  The guy whistled. “Damn. What about the legal department? Or marketing and advertising?”

  “The AI make all the ads,” said a woman from marketing. “I just feed it the prompts.”

  “Same here,” said the company lawyer. “Corporate law is pretty boring, honestly. They do all the paperwork for me.”

  “What about the science-y department?” asked the guy.

  “I think you mean R&D.” The HMR girl pointed to Mako, Anand, and Tan.

  “I think it’s time we proceeded to the actual agenda for today.” Bao clapped a hand to the desk.

  Everyone sat up straighter.

  “I’m sure you’ve all received the memo about Mr. Han over the weekend,” Bao said. “And while we mourn his loss, he would have wanted us to go on without him. He always was relentless in his pursuit of progress and innovation that would benefit mankind…”

  Anand stifled a laugh.

  Tan leaned over to Mako and whispered, “I heard a rumor it was some sort of sex thing.”

  Mako pinched her seatmates.

  “Ms. Tanako, do you have something to add?” Bao said.

  Mako shook her head and squirmed deeper into her seat.

  Bao clicked his tongue. “As I was saying… progress marches on. We stand on the shoulders of the greats and from our own advances will stand the future generations of innovators and technocrats.” He sighed and raised an arm toward the newbie. “This young man is Mr. Han’s son. May I introduce you all to Han Lin Jr.”

  “Thank you, Uncle.” Lin stood and stretched out his arms to the employees. “I think we’re going to have a fun time, aren’t we?”

  “I wasn’t finished,” Bao said.

  “Oh.” Lin sat back down. He grabbed a milk tea cup and slurped.

  “Mr Han Jr here has assumed his father’s stake and is now the Chairman of the Board. But other than that, we will resume operations as normal, and you will answer to me as your chief executive. Let’s all give Han Jr. a warm welcome.”

  The crowd gave a half-hearted round of applause, waking up the guy from security.

  “Now, for our monthly update. Let’s start with you.” He pointed to the finance department.

  The man Mako had left the elevator with pointed to himself. “Me? Oh— okay. Across all our products, counting gross revenue and costs, our profits are…”

  “Out, with it, Kian.”

  Kian gulped. “None. Less than none. We lost money.”

  Bao’s eyebrows scrunched. “I was under the impression the roll-out of our latest A.I. life partner model was a success.”

  “I heard of that one.” Lin pointed a straw at Kian. “That’s the anime waifu thing, right?”

  “It is,” said a woman from customer service, “it’s been well received by everyone who has it. Only…”

  “No one’s buying them,” finished Kian. “Not many can afford the subscription to the virtual product, much less the, er… physical extensions.”

  “That’s easy,” Lin said. “Lower the price. Problem solved.”

  “We cannot,” Bao said, intoning slowly, “just lower the price of our products ad infinitum.”

  “Sure, we can. Let’s slap, say, a 90% discount on it, and it’ll sell in no time.”

  The woman from marketing blinked at him. Lin snapped his fingers, and she wrote down the discount on a device…

  Bao was gripping a pen really hard now. “That’s not how things…” He let it go and turned back to the employees. “What of the latest batch of robo-pets? I was told the consumers eat those up.”

  “They do,” said the customer service girl. “But they tend to get run over by our self-driving cars.”

  “Does anybody have any good news at all?” He turned pointedly back at the marketing group. “What’s up for our next quarter’s lineup?”

  The marketing pair whispered to each other and nodded. The man stood and clicked his pointer. The screen lit up on the window behind him.

  “I present to you the new MegaCorp smart shoes.” He scrolled through the slides presenting different designs for glowing sneakers and high heels.

  That aroused oohs and aahs from the crowd.

  “Has this ever happened to you: you’re walking around minding your own business, when suddenly, you trip on your own shoelace? Worry no more, because with MegaCorp Smart Shoes, you never have to tie them again. They even come with self-drying capabilities. All powered by the latest in AI technology.”

  Hands applauded around the table.

  Lin was rubbing his chin. “Hey, that kind of sounds like that idea from that one movie, wossname.”

  The marketing pair winced. “Don’t look at us, sir, it’s the marketing AI that comes up with the ideas.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” the lawyer said. “Just change the name and brand.”

  Mako raised a hand. “I hate to break it to you guys…”

  The whole table turned to her.

  “… but that idea isn’t exactly easy to implement. The whole self-tying part. It would probably cost more to make those than what they’d be worth.”

  “And do you have any suggestions for what we could populate our next lineup with?” Lin said.

  Mako had no answer.

  “Say, what do we need an R&D department for anyway?” He looked over to Bao and Luci.

  “They construct the ideas marketing comes up with,” Luci said. “But moreover, they come up with innovations that push the boundaries of technology.”

  “So what have you guys been doing?” Lin pointed the straw back at the trio of researchers.

  Tan coughed into his handkerchief and looked over to Mako. Mako bit her lip and looked over to Anand.

  Anand stood to his full height, which wasn’t much. He adjusted his prim suit and pushed up his wiry glasses. “Sir, the next generations of military drones and missiles are well on their way. I just need a few more weeks to iron out some minor bugs.”

  “Whoa, you guys make weapons?” Lin said.

  Bao rolled his eyes. “What else would we send to the Middle East, the robo puppies?”

  “Ah, of course. Hey, sign me up for one of those military droids, too.”

  “What would you do with a—”

  “What else you guys got?” Lin turned his attention back to the R&D group.

  Tan shook some crumbs off his suit as he stood. “My research into quantum computing’s going swell. Every week, the prototype gets better, faster, stronger.”

  “That’s what you say every week,” said Kian.

  “And every week it’s true.” Tan adjusted his tie and looked away.

  “And you?” Lin said, looking at Mako.

  Her heart pounded. The dozen or so projects she’d been working on simultaneously were progressing at a normal pace. They didn’t need to know about the hiccups, like suggesting suicide. She opened her mouth and was about to give them vague updates, but nothing came out. She realized then that she was gripping her phone in a deadlock.

  She released her phone and closed her eyes for a second. “Sir, I think I might have a way to improve on the next generation of consumer AI models. In fact, it would revolutionize artificial intelligence as we know it…”

  “Not this again,” Anand mumbled.

  “… I propose we revive Project Robo Sapiens.”

  Murmurs rippled through the room.

  “Quiet, everyone. Quiet!” Bao banged his fist on the table. “We are not going through that farce of a program.”

  The sounds died out.

  “What’s Project Robot Aliens?” Lin asked.

  “Robo Sapiens,” Mako said. “It’s a scrapped project involving the study of human consciousness and its application to AI. It’s the frontier of both cognitive science and machine learning. It could change the world.”

  “Or it could lead to bankruptcy,” Bao said. “We need returns on our investments, not cute little science projects.”

  “That’s not what it—!” Mako put a hand over her mouth.

  Bao looked like he was about to pounce on her from across the room like a Bengal tiger.

  “Interesting…” Lin kicked back on his seat and laid his feet on the table. “Tell me more.”

  “Of course, sir. You see…” Mako tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear. “In recent years, natural language processing and large language modeling have been refined to the point of portraying convincing human conversation partners. Some AI can pass the Turing test, though not reliably and not for an extended period of time. MegaCorp has been a leader in this field for a while. At least, it used to be.”

  Lin nodded along with the enthusiasm and understanding of a grade-schooler in a calculus class. “And this Tulip test is like one of those pick-all-the-squares-with-motorcycles things, yes?”

  To hell with it. “Yes, basically. But, even if AI can mimic speech patterns and responses of humans — enough so that it could act as, say, a therapist — it doesn’t have a genuine grasp of human emotions. It doesn’t have real empathy or concern. In short, it’s…”

  “Dead behind the eyes,” Anand said. “A soul-less machine. A shell with no ghost.”

  “All I hear,” Bao said, “is sci-fi gobbledygook that belongs on a shelf next to green-skinned aliens.”

  “And even if we somehow achieved machine sentience,” Anand said, “we have no idea of its ethical ramifications or the impact it could have on society.”

  Mako put a fist on her hip. “As opposed to the impact your inventions are having on society?”

  Anand looked away.

  Mako turned to the rest of the employees. “Where’s your sense of exploration, your curiosity. We’ll never find green-skinned aliens if we never bother to look.” She held Tan’s forearm. “Tan, back me up.”

  Tan squinted. “Er…”

  Bao smirked. “Now that that’s all settled, it’s time we got back to real business.”

  So much for that idea. Why did Mako even bother?

  “I think that sounds great,” Lin said. “Let’s do it!”

  Bao said, “Boy, don’t you start.”

  “And why not?” Lin folded his arms. “Even I can tell most of our products are crap-shoots. Oh, come on, guys, don’t give me those looks, we all know it. I, for one, would like to have an assistant that makes sense. Or a funny car like in that one movie. Kirby or what’s it called?”

  “For the love of—”

  “Mr. Lin is right.” Mako got up and addressed her fellows. “What happened to the culture of excellence in this company? We used to be inventors and trailblazers. Not the pencil pushers we are now. Is that what you want to be for the rest of your lives?”

  “Hell no!” The guy from accounting pumped a fist in the air.

  One by one, the employees followed him. Pretty soon, the whole room was on its feet, chanting, “AI power! AI power!”

  Anand remained seated in silence, while Bao was shouting over the crowd, his voice drowned out by the chanting.

  Mako’s eyes met with Lin’s across the room, and he gave her a thumbs-up.

  She could feel it now. It was time for some real change.